


Crashing Into You

by The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff



Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [10]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Bad Poetry, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2019, DEC 14 - Fairy Tale/Myth Retelling, Fluff, M/M, Moving In Together, No Spoilers for Book 2: Wayward Son, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, please do not send me your dental bills, sofa smooches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21798241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff/pseuds/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff
Summary: Fast forward a few years into the future: Simon & Baz are moving in together when Simon finds a special, angsty poem 16 year old Baz wrote...feat. Baz as Icarus & Simon as the sun
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557748
Comments: 30
Kudos: 238
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2019





	Crashing Into You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Carry On Countdown 2019 - Fairy Tale/Myth Retelling
> 
> Bad poetry & boys in love ahead...

Crashing Into You

_You are the sun, vivacious and calling_

_Hurtling closer, feeling the smoulder_

_Like Icarus, I am burning, falling_

_Into the depths of this darkness, colder_

_Neverending night when you are not near_

_Loathing in your eyes from across the room_

_Kiss you or bite you, both my deepest fear_

_Blue eyes, bronze curls, my destruction, my doom_

_You make me a fool, you set me alight_

_Sparks flying, your intoxicating flare_

_All I’ll ever know is your sword, your spite_

_This aching pit, this desperate despair_

_I shouldn’t have flown so close to the sun_

_Golden beauty, I’ll never be the one_

**SIMON**

I read the poem over three times.

I’ve no idea if it’s any good (I don’t know shit about poetry), but I know it’s about _me._ And I know Baz wrote it; that’s his handwriting. (It’s much different than that time he forged Agatha’s writing and I got stuck outside with the snowdevils all night.) (It’s also different from his handwriting now, more...boyish, I guess. It’s still his, though; I can tell.) (I’d know it even if his handwriting _had_ changed a lot, the angst-ridden wanker.)

Also it’s in one of Baz’s moving boxes. One of the ones I’m unpacking in the bedroom. (Our _new_ bedroom.)

I wonder why he kept it all these years. 

I should probably put it back. I should probably pretend I never read it. 

Probably.

I fold it up and pocket it instead.

  
  


**BAZ**

Simon Snow is snogging me into the sofa. ( _Our_ sofa.)

Enthusiastically.

I rather think this is about to take a pleasant turn. I can feel him hard against me, and he’s bunching my shirt in his fist, and—

Laughing?

He’s bloody well laughing at me. 

  
  


**SIMON**

I’m giggling against Baz’s lips, and I end up having to pull away so I can figure out what he’s mumbling against mine. (Turns out it’s “ _What’s so funny, Snow?_ ” which I guess should’ve been obvious.)

I wriggle my hips against his and bury my face next to his ear. “Am I setting you alight?” I whisper. (I’m doing _something_ to him, judging by the situation in his trousers.)

“ _What_?”

“Do I make you a _fool,_ Baz?”

He knocks my face with his shoulder, and I burst out laughing again. “What’re you on about, Snow?”

“Can you feel my _smoulder_?”

  
  


**BAZ**

I’d ask if he’s been drinking (he doesn’t drink much these days, and never cider, thank _Crowley_ ), but I don’t smell alcohol, or taste it. He tastes like _himself,_ heady and sweet and lovely. He tastes _warm._

 _Everything_ is warm, especially his lips when I reach for them with mine. To shut him up. Because I want to. Because I _can._

Because we’ve spent all day moving into this flat— _our_ new flat—and I want him. I want to end this day with Simon Snow moaning into my mouth. With me moaning into his. 

Because he’s mine.

I think he’s gotten the hint well enough, anyway. The hint being my hands pulling at the hem of his shirt. (Sometimes it’s best with Snow to just be direct.) ( _Most_ of the time.)

He only stops kissing me long enough for us to get the shirt up and over his head. And then he’s on me, pressing me back down into the cushions, his hand moving between us to—

There’s a crackling in the pocket of his jeans, and he starts giggling again. With his palm cupping the front of my trousers. 

“For fuck’s sake, Simon Snow, you can’t _laugh_ while you’re touching a bloke’s cock,” I tell him. (I’m mostly joking.) 

“Sorry love,” he laughs. “‘S’just…” He lifts himself up until he’s sat upright, his knees bracketing my hips. (Well. One knee sinking into the seam of the back of the sofa. One knee bracing my other hip.) Then he pulls a folded piece of paper from his jeans pocket and opens it…

“ _What_ are you doing?” I ask. I’m smoothing my hands up and down either side of his waist. He’s so warm, and hard, and his curls are stood on end from when we took off his shirt…

He’s smiling like the sun as he looks at his paper. Flushed. Radiant. 

He’s lovely, and I want him. But I never pass up a chance to see him look this happy. 

He clears his throat. “ _Crashing Into You,_ ” he says. 

I cock an eyebrow at him. 

“ _You are the sun, vivacious and calling / Hurtling closer, feeling the smoulder_ —”

_Merlin, Morgana, and Methuselah._

  
  


**SIMON**

I jumped off Baz when I noticed his eyes going all wide when I looked at him over my piece of paper. (Well, _his_ paper, really.)

I’m running from him now (I need a head start; he’s got vampire speed). “ _Like Icarus, I am burning, falling_ ,” I keep on, my voice bouncing with my jog, “ _Into the depths of this darkness, colder / Neverending night when you are not near_ —”

“ _Snow!_ ” 

_“Loathing in your eyes from across the room_ —” 

Through the kitchen. Back around the sitting room. Entryway, then kitchen again. (I’m running him in circles.)

 _“_ — _Kiss you or bite you, both my deepest fear_ —” I can feel him gaining on me. We’re so _close_ — 

_“Blue eyes, bronze curls_ —” Into the bedroom. _“_ — _my destruction, my doom_ —ah!” Baz’s arms are around my waist from behind, and he’s pulling me to him.

 _“Where did you_ —” 

“In one of your boxes!” I yell, and I hold his poem high like a banner. 

The tall git rips it out of my hand. 

“ _You make me a fool, you set me alight,_ ” I say, because I know the damn thing by heart, now. “ _Sparks flying, your intoxicating flare_ —”

“Eight _snakes,_ that’s _abysmal_.”

 _“All I’ll ever know is your sword, your spite,_ ” I quote (I do this bit fast; I don’t like it). “ _This aching pit, this desperate despair_ —” But then Baz is holding me tighter, and I’m giggling again, my belly heaving against his arms around my waist.

“You’re laughing at my _pain_!”

I struggle to turn in his arms, because I’m coming up to the best part now. I need to be looking at him…

Grey eyes like a storm. He’s blushing, as much as he can. (He fed not too long ago.) His black hair’s a right mess. (As much of a mess as Baz’s hair can ever be.) (No, that’s not true. This isn’t Mozart-level.)

“ _Thank you for flying so close to the sun,_ ” I start, and Baz narrows his eyes at me. 

“It’s been a while, Snow, but I’m fairly certain that isn’t how that goes—”

“Shut up, you twat; I’m trying to be romantic.” I reach for him, for his face. “ _Thank you for flying so close to the sun,_ ” I say again. (I feel like a tit, saying this, but.) I tuck one loose bit of hair behind his ear. “ _Black-haired beauty, you’ll always be the one._ ” 

Baz blinks at me. 

And then we’re both laughing. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed this one! I had fun with it after I got past writing the sonnet, lmao.
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thehoneyedhufflepuff) I'm a disaster over there.


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